Thing of Beauty
by LondonLife
Summary: Santana Lopez is a newly qualified paediatrician who's preoccupied with the diagnosis off a young three year old boy suffering from leukaemia. Meanwhile Editor Quinn Fabray battles with conflicting emotions when she's asked to interveiw a succesful broadway star from her past- Enter Rachel Berry... Rating will change. Eventual Fabrerry and other glee combinations.
1. Chapter 1

**Right- Had a bit of a disaster! I did post this fic but it won't let me upload any more chapters so I'm starting again! It's actually done me a few favours since I wasn't too keen on chapter three, so here goes strike two!**

**Prompt: In a place she didn't belong. Amongst people she never knew. She found a way to make a difference. Santana Lopez is a newly qualified paediatrician who's preoccupied with the diagnosis off a young four year old boy suffering from leukaemia. Meanwhile, Quinn is forced to interview successful Broadway star Rachel Berry. **

**Okay, so this is the first chapter of my newest fic and it takes place in Central London (for the most part). It begins mainly with Santana, Quinn eventually Rachel. Hopefully, if it progresses well, it will also have a healthy side portion of the other glee characters. OC's will be included but that may change depending on the direction I take. **

**Rating may go up later on. If anything needs clarifying then just feel free to ask and I'll explain as best as I possibly can. **

**I was sent a prompt to write this so I hope I've done it justice! I've written the second chapter which is much stronger, so let me know what you think and then I will post it once I've double checked it! **

**Thank-you for reading and for any reviews which are always helpful. Hope you enjoy.**

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"You can sleep in here," Santana told Quinn as the two girls dragged Quinn's overstuffed duffel bags into the spare room. "My old roommate took her TV and stereo and everything with her when she went to Uni, so it's kinda bare in here…"

"That's okay." Quinn said, looking around. Compared to the welcoming, feminine décor of the rest of the apartment, the room was pretty sparse. A light white oak double bed stood under the double-sized windows that faced Bond Street, London's art museum and London's most prestigious ballet school. Beside it was a long, low dresser, and on the opposite wall was a desk and chair which Quinn placed her laptop on. It was all the same white oak wood as the bed and the occasional red décor stood out against the cream walls. On the floor, was a cream fur rug that just begged for her to walk barefoot across and the closet door stood partially open so that Quinn could see the silhouette of Santana's old cheerleading outfit hanging on the rail. It had been six years since she'd last seen that uniform and now here she was, in London, staying with Santana whilst she hunted for jobs completely unattached to the life she'd left back in Ohio.

Quinn breathed in the room's lavender smell mixed with musty wood and immediately relaxed. "Do you mind if I unpack my stuff?"

"Sure, go ahead." Santana flopped down on the bed and pulled a _Playboy _magazine out from under the mattress, scrunching up her perfectly shaped nose as she flipped through it. It had obviously been left behind by the last person who'd stayed in the spare room. That person had been Santana's co-worker, a fellow intern at the time, and her best guy friend called Nathaniel Jacobs. He'd crashed there after one of their drunken Friday nights at the local bar and had ended up staying for the entire week.

Quinn looked over her shoulder and smirked. Both women were too savvy about what guys really do when they're in their rooms alone to squirm and scream at the sight of_ Playboy_. She pulled a pair of skinny demin jeans out of her bag and opened the closet. Beside the cheerleading outfit was Santana's black leather biker jacket Quinn remembered her wearing since she was fourteen, and two white button down shirts with frayed collars and cuffs which hung neatly next to a barely-worn Hugo Boss tuxedo. She pointed at it and Santana instantly explained without even looking up from the magazine.

"They're my friends Nate's. He stayed here last."

Quinn looked back to the closet, hanging the demin jeans up neatly. On the floor of the closet was a beat-up pair of tennis shoes and next to them was a Prada shoe box.

Quinn glanced at Santana but this time the Latina didn't notice, she was completely transfixed by _Playboy._ She knelt down, wondering what kind of person would leave their Prada shoe's behind. The black box was dusty, and when she lifted the lid she found that there were no shoes inside, only a small brown leather-bound photo album. She recognised it, but couldn't picture why. Gingerly, she lifted it out the box and opened it up to the first page.

Inside were tons of unstuck photos that Quinn instantly recognised. She turned the album round too observe the photo's better. The first two photos were of Quinn, Brittany and Santana on their first day as Cheerio's. Her hands shook a little as she took in their wide, beaming smiles and care-free eyes and knew instantly that the photo had captured more than just their smiles, but also the individual battles they were each fighting inside. There was so much more behind the photo than it portrayed, and Quinn couldn't help but feel relieved as she looked around the room, taking in its spacious vibe and relaxed atmosphere. It was just what she needed. Everything about London was a million miles away from the life she knew so well in Ohio and even Yale hadn't installed in her the amount of freedom and sense of entitlement that London had given her. She finally felt excited and spontaneous, like there were no limits or family ties that knotted her to the 'Good Christian Girl' image. She hadn't spoken or even seen her father since the day she left for Yale nearly six years before-hand and finally, she was beginning to grow and learn that to be able to move on, she had to learn to at least let some of her walls down.

Quinn turned the page to see more photos, but then decided against it, quietly folding the album closed. She'd look at the rest that evening, when she didn't have tons of unpacking to do. But it was weird that one photo of her in a particular uniform had defined her for so long. Part of her felt uneasy that she'd only just escaped Ohio for real. Yale had given her temporary escape but her end destination had always meant she'd have to return home eventually, but not anymore. She was completely separate from Ohio now…No ties. No past ghosts. No reminders of old mistakes.

_Apart from a particular cheerio's outfit hanging in the closet. _

She placed the album back where she found it and stood up. She then walked over to a silver-framed family photograph on top of the spare dresser. The Lopez family were sprawled out on a Florida beach somewhere in their bathing suits, all with a smooth, sun-kissed colour, dark brunette hair, white smiles and huge dark, sparkly brown eyes. Quinn could tell Santana was about fifthteen in the photo because she remembered buying the bikini with her at their local mall. In her hands was a baby blue surf-board with dark blue writing and orange leaves that decorated the edge of the board. Quinn noticed that across her nose were a tiny cluster of freckles that she'd never noticed before.

_Why didn't I notice that?_ Quinn wondered to herself. It seemed like something she'd have realised even without knowing, but she couldn't remember ever seeing Santana with freckles before._ Maybe they were from the sun…_Behind her Santana rustled the pages of _Playboy_.

"Why did you choose to work in London?" Quinn wondered out loud, turning her top half to look at the brunette. For her, it was easy. She didn't want to be trapped in Ohio with her family, because there was always a continuous ghostly reminder that she'd spent years trying to be someone she wasn't and even that had never been good enough. It wasn't that she completely hated her family; she'd just had a lot of past issues that had resulted in resentment, but for Santana it was different. She _loved_ herfamily.

"It's got the best education for students who want to do something in medicine. Plus, it was the only place that offered me a reasonable job with good pay and good hours. " She explained, looking over the top of the magazine. Quinn nodded, looking back at the photo. "Being here rather than with my own family challenges me to do better for the sake of the children I work with… And I love the accent." She added, a dirty grin playing across her glossed lips that told Quinn a lot more than she really needed to know. Quinn rolled her eyes, but Santana knew she agreed and it only made her smile wider.

"I never thought you'd leave your family." Quinn said distractedly, leaving the picture behind as she walked over to continue unpacking her bags. Santana sat up, readjusting her bra strap. "I always saw you being a doctor of some kind though. Like a surgeon." She admitted with a smile as she thought back to high-school. Santana had always been the only one to challenge her in exams. Quinn had quickly learned that when it came to science, it was safe to say the Latina excelled even though she tried not to show it. She hadn't been able to compete with her.

"I was going to be." Santana said, sitting up straighter and folding her legs beneath her. "But I wanted to work with childreninstead of adults, so being a paediatrician seemed to suit me best... and strangely, I didn't like the idea of cutting people open." She added dryly making Quinn laugh as she folded up some of her tee-shirts and placed them in a draw.

They fell silent for a moment as Quinn continued to unpack and Santana continued to flick through her new magazine. The comfortable silence was broken by the ringing of a cell phone and both girls looked to each other, before searching for their phones. Santana gave up looking for hers when she realised it wasn't actually her ringtone and grabbed Quinn's from the bed beside her.

Quinn abandoned her unpacking and rushed towards her, hands outstretched. Without warning Santana tossed the phone to Quinn, mouthing sorry when it grazed her and flew onto the rug behind her. Quinn sighed, turning to pick up the phone quickly before it stopped ringing. She answered and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she heard a woman's voice say. "I'm calling for Miss Fabray?"

"Hello." She answered tentatively not recognising the voice. She shrugged when Santana asked who it was, turning her back to her to save herself from being interrupted which was something the Latina didn't even realise she was doing. Santana rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, recognising that old trick. For a second she considered interrupting her anyway, but by the seriousness in Quinn's voice she decided it was probably safer not to if she valued her life in any way.

"This is Owen Martin's secretary from London House Fashion Magazine. I believe you are interested in working with our company?" The secretary asked sounding rather composed and completely stuck-up.

_Interested?_ Quinn wasn't just interested in working there – it meant everything to her. The moment she'd seen it's advertisement in the previous month's magazine she had just known it was something she'd love. It would completely set her up and help her to get on her feet steadily, plus it was a job that she could have a real future with, it wasn't just a dead end job, but instead it was a career where she could really be passionate about.

"Yes, I am," she confirmed with a sharp nod of her head even though the secretary couldn't see. Santana just looked at her with narrowed eyes, wondering what could be so important that Quinn had to use her 'telephone' voice for. "Is there a problem with my application?"

"No, you've been selected as one of the final five applicants to be interviewed." The woman on the other side of the phone sounded entirely bored but Quinn couldn't care less. She had to clamp her mouth shut with her hand to stop herself from squealing before she allowed herself to speak.

"Oh thank-you. Is there any particular time?"

"Well, that's exactly why I'm calling," the secretary replied, sounding a little nicer than Quinn thought she'd intended too. "Owen Martin, the director, would like to schedule an interview for tomorrow if that is at all possible?"

"Yes. Yes of course. That would be perfect." Quinn breathed, giving Santana a thumbs up before shutting the draw she'd left open and was likely to walk into.

"Owen tends to work pretty late and has meetings up until seven tomorrow." Quinn could hear the rustling of paper on the other end of the line and instinctively held her breath. "He has meetings taking place after lunch, so would be able to attend an interview before then? Perhaps twelve o'clock?"

Quinn looked to Santana, covering the speaker with one hand whilst she mouthed to her, "Are we doing anything tomorrow?"

Santana shook her head in confirmation that no, they were not doing anything because she would be attending a lecture and Quinn turned away from her, pacing across the room. "No, tomorrow will be fine."

"Okay. Would it be possible for you to be at the Ivory Bar and Lounge for that time? The table will be under the name of Martin." The secretary informed and Quinn stalled. She'd only been in London for about four hours and had no idea where anything was.

"Yes, that'll be perfect." Quinn said before she could think about it any further. _She could always use a map after all_.

Quinn said a rushed thank-you and then the secretary clicked off. She looked directly into the mirror in front of her, a large smile lit up her angelic features. She hadn't changed much in the last six years. Her features were slightly more angular with maturity and her posture was strong but not ridged and defensive like it had been in high-school, her blonde hair just brushed past her shoulders and her hazel eyes were considerate and observant. She looked ready to move on and it was about time she managed to do so.

"What was that about?" Santana tossed the magazine on the floor and motioned for Quinn to join her where she sat crossed legged on the comfortable-looking bed. A mischievous grin played on Quinn's lips as she walked across the room. Santana watched her suspiciously, eyeing her with a grin. "You going to keep me waiting?" she asked and Quinn stopped, pretending to think about it.

"I would, but this is so good that I can't." She admitted and Santana laughed, puffing up a pillow and leaning it against the headboard. "Guess who has an interview tomorrow?" she teased, bouncing onto the bed next to Santana who simply rolled her eyes.

"Let me guess…"

"Yes! Me!" Quinn squealed, turning to face Santana. Her eyes were bright and vibrant with a new lease of life and Santana saw a side to Quinn that she hadn't seen for years. In fact, she hadn't even known this Quinn still existed.

"So, what's it for?" she asked, genuinely interested. Lately she'd been thinking a little too much about her most recent patient that she'd diagnosed with leukaemia. As a paediatrician, she dealt with a lot of young children under the age of ten, but one young three year old boy named Archie Jaxon had really caught her attention recently. She always told herself not to get emotionally involved, but recently she couldn't help it and it was driving her mad. She could really use the welcome distraction of Quinn being around to help keep her mind straight.

"It's for London House, the fashion magazine. Have you heard of it?" Santana shook her head. She hadn't heard of it, but that's because she never had any time to read anything unless it was a book about medicine. "Well, it's for a position as an interviewer at first. Kind of like a reporter I guess."

"Meaning you get to interview all the celebs that they feature?" Santana asked her eyes wide and her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised. Quinn bit her full bottom lip to stop her from smiling, but nodded.

"Yes. But don't jinx me!" she warned, gently nudging the brunette. "I really need to get through the interview first."

Santana chuckled, resting her arm over Quinn's shoulder. "Q, don't worry about the interview. If it all fucks up then fuck em'. I know you'll be fine."

"Like I said, don't jinx me." Quinn grinned, resting her head on Santana's shoulder with a sigh. "But for once, maybe I'll listen to you. If it goes wrong then fuck'em." She laughed. It was something Santana always said when she was under pressure of some kind and although the 'words of wisdom' weren't exactly helpful, they were somehow capable of soothing Quinn's nerves.

"Good." Santana nodded once sharply. "Fuck em' fuck em' fuck em'… But it isn't going to go wrong Quinn."

They both knew Quinn wouldn't really 'fuck'em' as Santana so elegantly put it, but if it all went wrong then it was nice to know she'd have a plan B. "Hopefully you're right." Quinn frowned, pulling a tread from the bottom of her cardigan. Santana smiled at her softly, pulling her into one of their rare hugs. Quinn wrapped her arms around Santana's neck and held onto her a little longer than necessary. It had been so long since they'd seen each other last, and it had been equally as long since both women had had someone to confine in that she didn't want to let go, afraid that if she did, Santana would disappear.

"I've missed you." She whispered, not even realising until it was too late that the words had left her lips. She expected Santana to pull away and give her some kind of sarcastic comment as a way of avoiding any display of vulnerability, so she was surprised when Santana did the opposite.

"I've missed you too Q." she said, squeezing the blonde a little tighter before releasing her.

Nothing more needed to be said, and they pulled away from each other comfortable in each other's presence.

Quinn climbed of the bed to continue un-packing, giving Santana's hand a light squeeze. She wanted to get everything un-packed and starting to feel more like home. She knew Santana didn't mind since she was hardly ever going to be home and Quinn just felt like once her stuff all had a place of its own she'd start to feel more secure and more at peace with her decision to run away to London. Santana stayed perched on the bed, watching the blonde carefully unpack.

Her eyes ran over the blonde's relaxed frame and in her mind she couldn't put the Quinn she knew six years back and this Quinn, this_ new_ Quinn, together. She knew the blonde had originally been offered an apprenticeship in London which is why she'd contacted Santana again in the first place. But then the contract she'd signed fell through and to Santana's surprise, Quinn still wanted to come to London. She just seemed so much more established and sure of herself in a way that wasn't cocky, but confident and self-assured and Santana felt pleased for her. She also didn't understand.

Santana sighed deeply, closing her eyes. She could hardly keep her large, dark eyes open as she let the pillows catch her and Quinn chuckled, placing her vast array of perfume bottles on the dresser.

"What are these?" Quinn asked, picking up a stack of papers from beside the desk. Santana opened one eye, saw the papers and then both eyes snapped open.

"Oh shit." Santana groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I have to sign all them for work next week."

Quinn passed her the stack of papers and Santana moaned as she got up from the bed, taking the stack of papers over to the desk and grabbing a pen from the draw.

"You can do those tomorrow night."

The brunette arched an eyebrow and smiled softly, putting down the pen before she'd even wrote anything. "Tomorrow? Why not tonight?"

"Because tonight, I want _you_ to take _me_ out."

"Ever thought of asking?" Santana smirked. It turned into a frown as she guided her finger over the complicated worded document in front of her. To Quinn it appeared as though she was contemplating how many hours of hard work the document promised, but really she was frowning over whether or not Quinn was asking her on a date.

"I would if I didn't already know you would say yes."

Santana pivoted in her seat, turning her top half to face the blonde. "You sure are cocky for someone who just accepted the fact that they're gay. Most people take a while to get comfortable in their skin and act like you are right now."

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "I'm a quick learner. But don't worry, I'm not asking you on a date." She reassured the Latina and Santana reclined in her chair, her famous playful smirk spreading across her features. She would be offended, but she already knew that she wasn't Quinn's type and Quinn wasn't her type either, that's why living together worked so well. "So... would you like to take me somewhere tonight? Show me around London and all that…"

"That depends. Where would you like to go?" she folded her arms over her chest, contemplating where was best to take the blonde. A little gay-bar down town crossed her mind but she quickly dismissed it. Although Quinn had been out for nearly six-months, she wasn't nearly as comfortable with her sexuality as Santana was with hers. She kept her sexuality repressed, desperate for it not to define who she was and whilst Santana understood, she knew Quinn still had a long way to go before she could be as open as her.

Quinn pondered over the question for a minute or so, wondering what she wanted to see most. Of course, she wanted to see_ everything_. To experience _everything _she possibly could so that she'd feel like she was given a new chance at life, but that was going to be impossible to do in one night. Finding that kind of peace and solace was going to take time. It was going to be a gradual process full of twists and turns and she was going to have to go through a lot before she could finally accept herself. She was getting there, day-by-day piecing little pieces of herself together, but time was what she needed. She decided that she'd let Santana decide where they ended up, even if she might live to regret that later on.

"Anywhere. It's up to you."

"Okay then, we'll go to my favourite place. It's a surprise and you'll need a jacket and sneakers. None of those high heels that make your legs look like they go on for miles." Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Don't think anyone you've walked past, gay or straight, hasn't noticed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so this second chapter is quite short and I apologize for that but I felt as though it had ended in the perfect place. I will be getting to Quinn's interview either in the next chapter or the one after. I just want to get a chapter in first where it's more from Santana's perspective! **

**This chapter is about just diving a little deeper into their past and their views on life. Hopefully you can see how their friendship is growing! **

**Hope you enjoy, thank you for any reviews/follows ect. They really help to motivate me. **

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"So, where exactly are we going?" Quinn asked as Santana led her on a worn path through thick woods. "I mean, you aren't really some psycho killer who's going to take me miles away from civilization and bury me in little bits so no one can ever find me, are you?"

Santana stopped suddenly and turned to meet Quinn's confused, shining hazel eyes. "How'd you know?"

"Shut up." She ordered, playfully slapping the Latina's arm and Santana instantly smiled. The smile never left her face as she took Quinn's hand and looped it through her arm as she continued to guide her. For Quinn, the feeling of being this close to Santana again felt like it brought life to her senses, as if she had never felt this much when being with anyone else. She missed her best friend's attitude, her secretly vulnerable side disguised by her tough armour and her stinging sarcasm that could cut through the toughest of defences and leave you with words running through your mind all day. "I'm just saying that we've been walking for fifteen minutes now. We're on a trail so that gives me hope that we're actually going somewhere, but the length of the mystery trail and it's less than casually travelled condition has left me rather curious as to what your intentions truly are."

It was moments like these when Quinn rambled that Santana had to stop her thoughts from drifting into the past and thinking of a certain brunette that used to do the same. It was a struggle, but turning to see Quinn adorably picking her way through roots was a comforting distraction that definitely helped. "We're almost there. And just in time too."

"Just in time... yeah, that's not at all foreboding."

"Hey. Just be thankful that I left my knife in the car. All I can do now is have my way with you where there's no one around to hear you scream." She joked, causing Quinn to smile.

"Who said that would be a problem?"

Quinn's smile faltered just slightly at her own joke, but Santana didn't see. She was too busy climbing over the trunk of a tree that had fallen and blocked their path. Quinn had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as she watched Santana straddle the tree, clinging on with dear life as she slipped slightly from the rain that had fallen that afternoon. It was a giant drop down on the other side and to Quinn; Santana looked like a dot in the ocean on the giant tree trunk. It really was hilarious, until Santana slipped and jumped off over the other side, leaving them separated. Quinn ran towards the tree trunk, ready to leap onto it and pull Santana to her feet, but the Latina's head peered over just in time. "Are you okay?"

Santana's cheeks were flushed as she held up her bark covered hands and wiped them clean. "Yeah I'm fine. I've clearly got a_ brilliant_ strategy for straddling tree trunks."

Quinn laughed, reaching her hands out to Santana over the trunk. "Help me over." Santana stepped back a little, spreading her feet so that she had a firm balance and held out her hands to Quinn's clasping them together as she prepared to haul Quinn over.

"Told you that you'd need sneakers." Santana strained, leaning back to adjust her weight so that Quinn could be pulled up.

She heard the blonde panting on the other side, before her torso appeared over the top of the trunk and she walked her feet up the bark so that she was eventually standing, looking down at Santana. "Yeah. Good call."

Santana kept her arms outstretched and Quinn crouched down, clasping her hands around the Latina's wrists. "Don't worry. I've got you." Santana said carefully taking tiny steps backwards as Quinn lowered herself warily. "There." She breathed when Quinn's feet finally touched the soil and both girls sighed in relief.

"Thank god for that." Quinn laughed, tucking her hand back into Santana's arm. They walked for another three or four minutes with Santana effortlessly leading the way, no hesitation as she followed the disintegrated path. Quinn stayed behind, focused on where she put her feet with each and every step.

"Here we are." The brunette announced, motioning to a gap between the trees. Quinn paused and looked back and forward between the gap and Santana with questioning eyes. "Fine, follow me." She took the smiling blonde's pinkie linking it with hers like she always used to do with Brittany and walked another twenty feet off the path before coming to a clearing that over looked the scenery below the high hill they were standing on. Distant ponds could be seen glowing as the dimming sun played off of their placid surfaces. And the shadows cast by the trees danced in the light breeze that was blowing. Horses ran below anticipating an on-coming storm, and the small clearing they were standing in was surrounded by purple lavender and white daisies with dark grey rocks scattering the clearing sparingly.

"How on earth did you ever find this place?"

Santana laughed lightly and pointed off to the right. "You see that road over there?"

"Yeah."

"That's the one we drove on to get here. My first year here, my car died while I was driving and I had to wait for my friend Nate to come and get me. I spent half an hour just looking around. I saw this little clearing up here and thought that it would be a great place to escape to whenever I needed to think."

"That it is." Quinn agreed, peering over the edge at the expansive greenery. In the distance, Quinn could see white sand that stretched on for ages, disappearing into cliffs as the waves closed in. She couldn't believe she'd never found anywhere as beautiful as this herself, but she was grateful Santana had shown it to her.

"Hold on." Santana lifted a finger as she untangled their arms and walked over towards a tree. She walked behind it, balancing right on the edge of the bank the dipped down before it began to roll into a cliff face that simply hit more rolling fields. She squinted, trying to detect how long they had before sun set.

"What are you doing?"

"I want you to witness something that I can guarantee you won't forget." Santana explained with a smile as she pulled her messenger bag over her head. Quinn watched as she pulled out two blankets and laid one down on the ground next to the tree. She sat down, calling for Quinn to sit next to her. "I don't bite."

"You can though." Quinn laughed and Santana grinned, wriggling her eyebrows.

"Whilst that may be true in_ some_ circumstances, I will behave today." She promised, smiling. The only time she'd ever fought with Quinn was in high school and they'd proved then that they both were equal when it came to physically fighting. But none of that even mattered now. They'd both grown up, matured and learned the meaning of life. Whilst Santana couldn't deny that she still had her feisty attitude, she'd certainly learned to contain it over the past six years.

The blonde took her place, sitting close to Santana but not too close, and helped her cover them both with the other blanket before leaning back and using the tree as a back rest. Santana sighed deeply, resting her hands behind her head for support. "Now, we wait."

"We wait? Wait for what?"

"The sunset."

Quinn couldn't fight the smile on her face but had no clue why the brunette had taken her to see the sunset here when they could have seen it anywhere. She looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Santana sighed and looked back at her with a soft smile. "Okay, so it might sound crazy, but watching the sunset here reminds me of Ohio. It makes me feel like I'm watching it with my mom, like I'm still who I was when I was a little girl. It gives me my innocence back just for a moment, and takes me to a time where nothing else apart from the people I loved mattered to me. It was never about appearances or reputations; it was just about imagination back then. I'd watch for hours the sun setting and me and my mom would always try and guess how many other people were seeing what we were seeing, feeling how we were feeling and breathing the air that we were breathing. No matter how angry I was, how upset…whatever I was feeling…I would always just stop and watch the sunset. It was the one thing I could count on being there from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to sleep. If I was upset, I'd just watch it and my breathing would steady, my mind would calm down and my body would stop aching. I'd find peace."

"You are something else, you know that?" The brunette blushed and bowed her head. "That's a good thing. But I never realised how much of a deep thinker you are."

"I've never let anyone apart from Britt see below the surface." Santana smiled lightly over her shoulder before leaning her head against Quinn's shoulder. "And that wasn't because I Iet her. She just saw _everything_."

Quinn smiled thinking back to Brittany and her famous naivety that had always made her so easy to appreciate. Quinn was always grateful when she pointed out the simpler things in the life that the blonde would otherwise overlook, ignorant to beauty of simplicity. "She misses you, you know? She told me when Puck took me to the airport."

Santana's eyes snapped to Quinn's, but she quickly diverted them in an attempt to hide her desperation. Quinn smiled sadly, not fooled by Santana. The desperation was blatant and something neither girl could ignore forever. Santana had been hoping that if Quinn moved in with her, she wouldn't feel so lonely, but she still ached. _She ached for Brittany._ She was just grateful that it wasn't a stabbing pain like it used to be. It now felt more like a dull jab occasionally when she saw something that brought memories of the blonde flooding back to her. For six years, she'd hadn't seen the blonde but they did still text and phone from time-to-time and gradually Santana could feel herself becoming less and less dependent on the blondes laughter to get her through the day.

Quinn silently looked on as Santana became lost in her thoughts, watching as clouds drew closer and the sun progressively became lower in the sky, almost right in her line of sight.

"Okay. I have to ask you something." Santana stated, removing her head from Quinn's shoulder and resting back against the tree.

"What's the question?" Quinn asked gently, breaking her eyes away from the beautiful scenery below.

"When did you realise you liked her?"

Quinn stared at the brunette blankly. "What?"

"You are moving way too fast and way too smoothly to have just realized you are gay. So... when did you realise you liked her?"

The blonde huffed a laugh. "I don't know who you're talking about." Santana arched an eyebrow in disbelief, causing Quinn to turn away slightly, looking out over the view while taking nervous glances sideways. "Okay, so there might have been someone towards the end of high school that had me considering the possibility, but I never accepted it as reality."

"So you had a crush on Rachel?"

Quinn's jawed dropped and eyes flickered with panic, but Santana didn't say anything. "I... it's complicated." The brunette still didn't respond, asking Quinn to continue with her silence. "You know better than anybody what our... 'relationship' was like. My feelings, friendly and other, were just layers upon layers of conflicting emotions. I don't know what I felt."

Santana smiled lightly at her, familiar with the feeling Quinn was describing and leaned over to rest her chin on Quinn's shoulder, waiting for her to turn. The blonde smirked and slowly did as was expected, earning a light, triumphant smile.

"Are you okay? You're shaking a little."

Quinn opened her eyes and turned her head again, nodding. "Yeah. Just don't know where my minds at now."

Santana hesitated for a second. "You'll figure it all out eventually…with time. There's no rush. Nobody to demand answers here and now." The brunette moved down on the blanket so she could lay flat on her back, and Quinn did the same. "Look." Santana whispered pointing to pink sky above.

"Wow…" Quinn breathed, looking upwards at the tumbling pink, reds, oranges and yellows above. A deep, breath-taking smile lit up her features as she inhaled, trying to memorise the moment. "It's beautiful."

"I know, right?" Santana beamed, glancing at the blonde who was entirely captivated. "It's as if the colours and intensity of the light is just enough to calm you. The sun is like a great big romantic, inspirational fire in the sky. This is what I meant earlier. It's as if a powerful symphony is quieting down, becoming more emotional and beautiful as it dies down. Its rays always seem friendly. They remind me of one of my old friends, waving good bye, you know they are leaving but you are filled with the confidence that you will see them again."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat at the words. It was so true. Everything that could possibly describe the beauty she was seeing, Santana had just summed up so effortlessly, the words flowing so freely. "How do you do that?" she breathed.

"How do I do what?"

"Come up with something as beautiful as that."

Santana huffed a laugh, covering her blush. She'd never thought that the way she saw the world was particularly 'beautiful' in comparison to the way other people saw the world, but her way was _unique_. It was _her _way. She looked at Quinn who was searching her eyes for an answer with a burning intensity. "Once you learn to see things as they are, you'll realise the beauty in simplicity in overwhelming."

Quinn's eyes widened. She'd already come to that conclusion when thinking about Brittany, but to know that that's how Santana saw life too, was a little too much for the blonde to take in. _Did everyone see life this way or was she just different? _She nodded, too deep in thought to provide any real answer. Santana rested her head back on Quinn's shoulder, appreciative of the fact that she'd opened up to Quinn and content with simply letting the blonde soak in their surroundings.

Quinn's mind raced, eventually calming and halting at the realisation that maybe the beauty in simplicity _was_ simply something everyone grew to appreciate when they matured. As she looked over her shoulder to the right of her, she saw that the sky was now slowly turning into a navy sea of stars. The sun had already set. She could see the distant glow of the town and how it muted out the stars above it. She smiled lightly as she turned her head back to the brunette.

"It's like second nature."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay- Not sure if I ended any of this in the right place, but regardless, I hope you enjoy! There's a few things in here that I'm not too sure about, but I hope you can overlook that as I'm hoping chapter four will make up for it! **

**Thank you for your reviews ect! It's lovely to receive such amazing things: ) **

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"Mom, I know."

Quinn smiled as she emerged from the spare bedroom to see Santana struggling to fix breakfast while talking with her mother on the phone. Santana had recently told her mom about the progression of Archie Jaxon's diagnosis and her mother was constantly going over the twenty questions with her. After their talk the previous evening Quinn had developed a deeper understanding of Santana's complex web of emotions. While Quinn admired the care Santana's family had for their daughter and their concern for Archie's well-fare, when Santana struggled to provide some of the answers to questions she should have already been granted the answers to, Quinn felt awful. She knew it wasn't her fault, but within the last twenty-four hours she'd witnessed a side to Santana she'd never previously been granted access too. The Latina was struggling to keep her emotions in check when the subject of Archie's diagnosis surfaced and Quinn doubted that her mom's questions were helping.

"You told Dad?" Santana stood up straight. "Why did you tell Dad? When did you tell Dad?...What do you mean why am I asking this?...I'm asking because that way I can ignore his phone calls... Don't give that whole lecture about him being my father and is just worried...How did I know you'd say that?... Because you've told it to me a thousand times already. I have it memorized by now."

The blonde chuckled as she leaned against the doorway and watched as Santana dramatically bounced her head against the shiny dark cupboards. "Don't do that. You might hurt the paint."

Santana glared coldly at her and Quinn just smiled. "No, Mom... I know, Mom... Mom! I know."

"She must be where you get your persistence from."

The brunette grabbed the hose from the sink and threatened to turn it on, but Quinn threw up her hands in surrender. "I'm listening to you. I just had a distraction... Yes it was Quinn... No, you can't talk to her." Quinn straightened up, smirking with amusement. "Because she's busy right now…Yes mom, she's doing fine…I am looking after her! ...Alright. Love you too. Bye."

"Do I even want to ask?" Quinn asked cautiously, leaning against the counter situated in the centre of the cosy yet modern kitchen.

"She wants to make sure I'm looking after you."

"I've only been here for-"

"Nineteen hours?" The blonde pulled her head back, surprised with the answer. She hadn't realized she'd already been in London for nineteen hours. It felt like she'd only just arrived. "She's curious because I didn't tell them sooner about Archie's illness. She knows the details are confidential but she can't handle seeing me so attached to a patient I technically have no ties too."

"Why didn't you tell them sooner?" Quinn asked as she removed the hose from Santana's hand and placed it in its spot, just in case.

"Honestly? I didn't want to admit that it was affecting me. You know my parents; they can be a bit... much. I just figured that if I didn't tell them why I was becoming more distant whilst I focused on Archie's diagnosis that I wouldn't have to admit that it was really happening to such a lovely, bright young boy."

"But you're ready to now?" She asked, genuinely curious in the other woman's answer.

"Yes." Quinn hopped up on the counter near the stove so Santana could finish cooking her breakfast and still talk. "I've actually come a long way since he was first diagnosed. You should have seen me when I first heard…I was like you whenever you found out there was no bacon and you're pregnancy hormones were raging. That was just dangerous!"

"Cute..." The blonde remarked disapprovingly.

"I'm being serious though." Santana stated, pulling the pan off of the hot burner and turning her attention to Quinn. "It's not about me; I can't inwardly punish my parents for being concerned whilst I spend weeks at a time ignoring their calls just so that I can avoid the subject."

The blonde thought about it as she bounced her bare feet against the bottom cabinets. She could understand Santana's hesitance, but she could equally understand her parent's point of view. Technically, they were right. Santana's attachment to Archie wasn't what anyone would expect and she didn't have any ties, but no one could fight through raw emotion.

"Anyway, your breakfasts nearly ready." Santana said over her shoulder dismissing the conversation and interrupting Quinn's thoughts.

"Thanks," Quinn said absently, her mind elsewhere. Santana frowned at her, rolling her eyes with a smile as she turned her attention back to the pancakes.

"What you thinking?"

"I wanted to talk to you about this summer. Your plans and everything." Quinn said. That wasn't really what she'd been thinking, her mind still lingering on their previous subject, but it seemed as though Santana was desperate to move away from that conversation.

Santana hesitated, not expecting the sudden change of topics but relieved all the same. "Okay. Well, I don't really have any plans. I mean, I know you are looking for work but I'll be around if you have something you want to do? I've kind of been waiting for you to bring up the discussion of how you want to handle this summer since I know you wanted to go back and visit Beth."

Quinn nodded. "I may go and visit, but I have some other things to take into consideration, like work hopefully. Although that might just be me jumping ahead of myself. But I was thinking that maybe we could travel around abit, you know; see what's outside of London, and I'm hoping I'll be ready to start dating by then. "

"You sound pretty confident about that." Santana teased as she walked over, receiving a light punch on the arm from the scowling blonde.

"I am. I mean, I just want to start moving forward now. I feel like I can handle the difficulties that come with learning to accept my sexuality, and I'd really like to have a relationship that lasts longer than five-freaking- minutes." Quinn said, waving her hands in frustration.

The brunette just smiled, holding back the laughter in her throat. "I hope your confidence is as deep as you are making it seem. You can learn a lot from being single."

"Yeah, it's totally not." Quinn confessed, dropping her eyes with a trace of smile. "But I know that it's important for me to actually start dating...It's long overdue." She grinned and Santana nodded her head, returning to the preparation of breakfast as she cut an apple into little cubes. "And what can you learn from being single?" Quinn pouted.

Santana shrugged. "Well, when you're ready I'll take you out to a bar I know. You'll love it." She offered with a dirty, playful smirk that Quinn knew all too well. She instantly rolled her eyes, knowing that if she agreed then she'd most likely end up regretting it.

"As long as you don't get tired of me and kick me out before then that is."

"You mean get tired of the woman who lives with me but doesn't pay rent and that never cooks me lunch? Never." She quipped, cheekily sticking her tongue out at the blonde who gave her a very sophisticated reply using the middle finger.

"Hey. I made you lunch yesterday." Santana arched an eyebrow and glanced at her friend over her shoulder. "Okay, so it was just a sandwich, but it's definitely the thought that should count."

The brunette giggled. "Yeah. I can see how that requires real '_technical_' cooking skills."

Quinn jumped of the counter, her bare feet softly padding against the hardwood flooring. "Shut up and cook breakfast. I have an interview to prepare for and_ you_ have a lecture."

"Yes, Mam!"

**/****#/#/#/#/**

After consuming a rather varied breakfast consisting of apple, strawberries, pancakes and muffins Quinn's mind returned to the one thing it had been focused on for the last twenty-four hours: her interview with Owen Martins. She had even done some research with the help of Santana so that she could ask Owen pointed questions about the magazine and the creators behind it. Now, it was twelve o'clock on a Friday afternoon and she was sitting alone at a corner table in the Ivory's bar, waiting for him. The bar was crowded, mostly with middle aged men in custom-tailored suits, discussing business deals over scotch on the rocks, or sitting with bleached-blond women who were definitely not their wives. With its sleek greyish-silver walls, crisp white tablecloths, and forties jazz music, the bar had an air of sexy sophistication. She shifted in her seat, rolling her shoulders back in an attempt to relief the tension.

"Would you like another coke, miss?" the bow-tied cocktail waiter asked when he came to a halt in front of Quinn's table.

"No, thank you," Quinn answered, keeping her eyes glued to the door.

It was still five past twelve, but if she drank any more Coke, she'd have to pee so badly she'd never make it through the interview without needing to use the restroom. What Quinn really wanted was a shot of Tequila, but with her luck Owen Martins would stroll through the door just as she was knocking back the shot, confirming any worries he may have that his perspective employee is really just a flaky party girl looking for a job in the fashion industry that meant she'd get to go around promoting the magazine at bars and clubs.

Quinn had spent nearly two hours getting ready, cursing Santana for not being there. The Latina was attending a lecture across the city instead, hoping to gain a better understanding of the newest, most effective treatments for Leukaemia patients. Quinn had needed one hour alone to shower and blow her hair out into a neat, preppy quiff, the ends feathered so that they framed her face in perfectly styled yet intellectual manner. She'd then needed another hour to apply natural-looking make-up for the fresh, healthy glow of someone who always got twelve hours sleep because she _never _went out and _never_ went anywhere near a cigarette or a cocktail._ Right. _

Then, she'd had to slip into her new preppy white blouse and high waisted skirt that ended just above her knees whilst going through potential answers for Owen's questions.

Just then, whilst watching a woman sip on a glass of wine with envy, an extremely well groomed businessman sitting at the bar spun around on his transparent barstool and smiled at her. He had wavy black hair, bright blue eyes with short, jet black eyelashes, and distinctly arched black eyebrows. His face and hands were deeply tanned, as if he played tennis in the sun every day of his life, and he was wearing a respectable navy Giorgio Armani suit with a crisp white shirt and simple gold cuff links. Quinn recognised him straight away and smiled politely as he made eye contact with her across the bar. "Are you Quinn Fabray, by any chance?" he asked in a deep, professional voice.

Quinn nodded tentatively. "Yes?"

He slid of his stood and walked over to her table, leaving an empty glass tumbler behind on the bar. He held out his right hand. "I'm Owen Martins."

"Hi!" Quinn jumped to her feet and took his hand, feeling completely confused. She'd always expected Owen Martin to be an older man, with gracefully greying hair and a tint of a tan that suggested holidaying in France, but this man clearly worked out every day, wore designer clothes and was _young_. Maybe_ too_ young to own a multinational magazine company?

Quinn came to her senses in time to realize that she was still grasping Owen's hand. She shook his hand as firmly and as confidently as she could, alarmed by her minds total inability to focus. She was meeting with Owen for one reason only: to impress him so she could secure herself a job. "Thank you for taking the trouble to meet with me," she added hastily.

"I've been looking forward to it," He replied in his manly, low voice. "I even saw you come in, but I didn't think it could be you. I wasn't expecting you be early."

Immediately, Quinn wondered if she'd done anything even remotely embarrassing whilst waiting for him. Nothing sprung to mind, but the evening wasn't over yet.

"I'm usually early." She answered, taking a nervous sip of coke as she studied the crowded bar above the rim of her glass. Was this a good time to tell him that she now – as of that morning - possessed the knowledge that a rare- one- of-copy of the first cover his father Mr. Stewart Martin had designed was now owned by one of Santana's co-workers? It had been part of the Martin family ever since but, last year it had been auctioned as a way of raising money to try and save the magazine during the recession. The cover itself had made millions. Its image was iconic, and had put the magazine on the map all over the world, especially in Europe.

It was a long shot, and certainly daring if Quinn decided to use that knowledge, but she most-likely wouldn't need it anyway. She was sure that if nothing else, possessing the knowledge could only come in handy later on in her career if they offered her the position.

Owen pulled back the chair opposite hers and gestured for her to sit down. She took a deep breath and tried to focus. "So, should we get started?" he asked.

Quinn was grateful for his relaxed, but business-like manner. She sat down on the edge of cushioned chair and crossed her legs primly. "Yes," she beamed at him enthusiastically.

The cocktail waiter appeared to offer Owen another drink and he ordered a scotch on the rocks. He cocked a dark eyebrow at Quinn. "Can I get you something besides a coke? I promise I won't assume you're unprofessional." He grinned and she smiled back politely.

"No thank you." Quinn declined, trying not to fall for any tricks and maintain her business-like, professional vibe.

"So, tell me why we would benefit from having you work for us?" Owen asked after ordering Quinn another coke, just in case. He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "Are you really as bright as your dad claims?"

_Oh my god. _Quinn slammed her eyes shut, taking a moment to compose herself. Her father had been one of her references on an old CV; she thought she'd changed it but clearly not. God knows what he might have said, but Quinn didn't want to know, she just wanted to fix the situation. Quinn sat up even straighter, twirling a little tiffany ring around and around her finger underneath the table cloth. "I believe I'm smart enough to work for London House." She replied evenly, remembering her rehearsed answers. "I was in all of my AP's at school. I was top of the class in most and I ran the organizing committee during my last two years. I was also head cheerleader for my school which ranked nationally. Then I went on to achieve a degree in English at Yale University. "

Their drinks arrived and Owen raised his glass. "And why London House?" He took a sip. "What could Fashion House do for you?"

It seemed odd to Quinn that Owen wasn't taking any notes or anything, but maybe he was testing her, trying to get her to let her guard down. "As you of course will know, Fashion House is the most cherished magazine in Europe." She stated, determined to give intelligent, straight-to-the-point answers. "It's the gateway to fashion, a central piece that is recognised amongst every young person in the city. Its real articles are articulate and well calculated, giving readers an insight to topics they would otherwise refuse to acknowledge. It's a source of communication for those in the fashion industry to share their tips and insights, and I believe since I value these aspects, I would thrive to deliver the best I could for the readers and audiences of this magazine. "

"Excellent," Owen nodded approvingly. "But what about family ties? I understand you aren't from here."

Quinn bit her bottom lip in concentration. "No, family won't be a problem for me. They will, in no way whatsoever, interrupt my commitment to work. I'm not planning on splitting my time between here and Ohio." She hoped it didn't sound like she didn't care, but the truth was exactly what she'd just said. Family weren't going to be a problem for her because she didn't talk to them.

"Sounds like there's more to that story." Owen stared down into his Scotch, looking pensive as he swirled the glass around in his hand. Quinn inhaled sharply, hoping he wouldn't ask for any explanation. He looked up again, meeting her cautious gaze. "But don't worry, I won't push for anything too personal in this interview." He assured her. Quinn nodded slowly, twirling her ruby tiffany ring around her finger. "Let's talk about something less personal…"

"Okay."

He paused in thought. Quinn observed his blue eyes sweeping over her features. "So, due to your earlier answer, I believe you read our magazine regularly?"

"Yes. I do."

"As you know, a large part of the job would be based around building contacts, maintaining relationships and achieving a steady status within the public eye. You will be working both within the company and also out attending different events. Have you got any previous experience in this area?"

Quinn thought about her answer carefully, considering any angle she could approach the question with that would distract from the truth. There wasn't one. "I don't have any experience in this area per' say, however I'm good with public speaking and seeing what other's would dismiss. I tend to believe that this sort of job is based on the interviewer's foresight and perceptive nature. I'm observant and some would say I'm naturally more reserved than the typical interviewers out there…That I can't argue with…but I am _unique_. My way of dealing with things is much more insightful, I'll deliver information you wouldn't ordinarily achieve by being like every other interviewer out there. I can give them a run for their money; I just use a different approach."

He sat silently, his face still with a lingering, thoughtful expression Quinn couldn't quite place. Then finally, after a long moment of silence he scooted his chair forward and winked at her. "Look Quinn, you're an intelligent, ambitious woman offering an approach I don't think I can afford to overlook. I don't know about your suitability, but I'm willing to chance it. I would like to offer you a trail with us… It'd be for a week long period, before I review the situation. Would you be interested?" He asked raising his chin, his square jaw firmly clenched as he watched Quinn deliberate.

He looked so earnestly truthful while he was saying this that Quinn felt her cheeks heat up. She took a sip of coke to cool herself off. "Thank you." She responded gratefully. She took another sip of her drink and let out an enormous sigh of gratitude and relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. I would love the opportunity."

Owen laughed, reclining in his chair with his hands crossed on his knee. The tension in his frame evaporated into thin air as did Quinn's inner nerves. "I'll be in touch."

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"Oh my god, you_ have_ to let me burn this one!" Santana held out a picture of her first-grade self in a fuzzy tiger costume and dug her feet into the butter-soft crisp white sheets covering Quinn's bed. Her bed was always unmade even since she was little and the family maid would bulldoze though her room daily, scolding her for her messiness. But now it no longer mattered as Santana and Quinn lay side by side on their stomachs, the worn leather photo album Quinn had found the day before wedged in-between them.

"I don't even remember _wearing_ that," Santana mused, tossing the aging photo onto the already messy floor. Even though Quinn had only lived there for twenty-four hours, her new room was a total disaster. Piles of unpacked boxes lay strewn across the spacious bedroom, and the huge wooden desk was scattered with a combination of Quinn's magazines and Santana's forms which she had yet to fill in. However, after a long, emotionally-taxing lecture the last thing Santana wanted to do was fill in forms and Quinn just wanted to celebrate, born from a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation, but at that moment in time she was simply content lying there beside the Latina.

"_I_ do." Quinn laughed, retrieving the photo. "It was Halloween. We'd just gone to the zoo on some field trip, and you became obsessed tigers." She smiled lazily at the brunette beside her. "You ran around telling everyone you were going to live with the tigers."

Santana laughed, running her hands through her hair. That was such a typical thing for her to have done and even now, if she ever visited the zoo when Brittany was visiting, the first thing they went to see were the tigers.

"Oh, no _way_!" She exclaimed her eyes darting to picture hidden under some other faded ones of her in her cheerio's outfit balancing on a brick wall. There was Puck, blissfully passed out between a smiling Quinn and winking Santana , the words 'BUCK NAKED WOMANISER' scrawled in red marker across his bare, hairless chest.

Quinn stared down at the photo of Puck sleeping. She'd written the 'BUCK NAKED-' part and Santana's wavy script had filled in the 'WOMANISER' part. They hadn't even talked about it; they'd just had the exact same thought at the exact same time. Quinn laughed, running her fingers over the slick surface of the photograph. "I can't believe you still have this! What were we, like, thirteen?"

They looked so innocent, lying there with Puck between them. Quinn smiled, a familiar feeling of fondness and warmth washing over her. The Three Musketeers – that's what their parents had nicknamed them during grade school before they met Brittany. The memory of a cluster of adults shaking their heads and smiling as Quinn and Santana tackled Puck in various living rooms, sitting on top of him and tickling him until he screamed was still as vibrant in the women's memories as it was when they were just five.

"I'll let you keep the tiger one if you promise _never_ to burn this one…" Santana looked up and gave Quinn her famous mischievous smile.

"Deal." Quinn grinned. She stuck her hand out and Santana shook it affirmatively, a smirk across her lips which were a bruised shade of red from continually biting her lip during the lecture that morning.

"This is so weird." Quinn said, turning the page. Her eyes landed on impossibly long, toned legs, a slender torso hidden by a hideously ghastly argon sweater and long, silky hair that framed big, bold chocolate orbs.

_Rachel Berry. _

"What's weird?"

Quinn looked down at the ends of her hair, scanning the split ends in order to avoid Santana's nonchalant gaze. "I don't know." She flipped the page and pointed to a photo of her and Santana on the steps of the Met in New York, their arms wrapped around, tongues sticking out at the camera. "Things seemed so much easier then. No jobs. No responsibilities. No cares."

"_No_ Rachel Berry." Santana said, taking the photo from Quinn's hands. "Do you remember, she was trying to pose in the background? Pouting her ass of as if she was the best thing that had ever graced New York! I edited her out."

Quinn snatched the photo back. Unconsciously a smile crept onto her face as soon as she saw Rachel's smile and a little part of her faded away as she ran her fingers over the picture. "As much as we tormented her, we would have noticed if she wasn't around." She said, trying to hide the defensive edge to her voice.

Santana mashed her lips together. "I forgot about your crush…"

"It wasn't a crush!" Quinn defended. "I don't know what it was…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay so it's finally time to start getting to the good stuff! In this chapter I'm finally introducing Archie which reflects deeply on Santana. I hope I've done it justice. I'm also getting very close to introducing Rachel! So thank-you for your patience. It all means a lot. **

**Love receiving reviews ect! Really helps motivate me to update faster. **

**Not sure this is exactly how I wanted this chapter to be, but I hope you enjoy regardless. Please let me know if there anything you think needs changing! **

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**Two weeks later...**

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Sara Walsh sat sideways with her legs curled underneath her in the large chair next to the bed, leaning over and gently running her fingers through her sleeping fosters son's hair before removing it to quickly wipe away a silent, stray tear with the sleeve of her oversized sweater. She then tucked her hand under her chin and her other arm around her body as she melded back into the seat in her exhaustion. But her eyes stayed alert, searching over Archie's features. He was starting to look more like the photo of his father every day.

Santana was just outside the door helping her boss, an experienced older doctor named Edward Lowndes, answer all the tough questions Jason Walsh needed answers too. Sara and Jason had been Archie's guardians for the past year, ever since his mother had passed away. The foster agency hadn't been able to get in contact with his father who was on duty overseas. It was just four months later that Archie was diagnosed with Leukaemia and now, Santana stood there, completely numb, as she realised the fatal truth that he was losing the fight. She tried to keep herself from instinctively fearing that he couldn't fight any longer, seeing Quinn's arched eyebrow in her mind as a sign of how ridiculous she was being even entertaining the thought. But still, he seemed to be becoming weaker with every day that passed.

Just then Archie's IV pump began rhythmically beeping, indicating the bag of fluids was empty. After settling herself from the shock of the harsh noise cutting through the silence of the early morning hour, Sara quickly reached over and pressed the silence button the nurse had shown her then the call button itself.

"Can I help you?" A grainy voice asked through the intercom.

"His IV is beeping." She answered calmly, returning her hand to the lightly stirring child's hair. Like her biological child Summer, it was the trick to getting him to sleep. All it took was a little reassurance that she was still there and they drifted off into a peaceful place.

"The nurse will be right in."

"Thank you."

Sara smiled lightly as Archie rolled onto his side facing her to get more comfortable but fell right back to sleep. She brushed his short hair away from his forehead, tight curls beginning to grow from where he hadn't had his hair cut recently, and then she trailed the back of her fingers over his cheek before retracting it completely. _He was going to be okay_.

"Sara?"

Instantly, Santana appeared through the door, the coat of her white and blue uniform catching in the breeze with the forceful purpose of her walk.

The older blonde woman turned to look over her right shoulder to see Santana, her son's paediatrician, in the doorway behind her. There was no hesitation before she was up and nervously folding her arms around her waist, her eyes prying on Santana's concerned expression. Then her eyes settled on her husband who entered just after and there was no reluctance as she crashed into his arms. Nothing had a chance to register with her. Not what her husband was wearing, the concern in his eyes, the look on his face. Nothing. All Sara cared about was feeling his warm, comforting embrace. Turns out she needed that physical reassurance as well.

Jason stumbled back a step from the impact but revelled in the crushing embrace, pulling the smaller woman even closer with an arm around her shoulder and the other hand lacing into the pale blonde tresses that wafted their scent into his nose. His eyes screwed shut as he fought to keep from trembling and after a few seconds of no movement, the blonde shifted her head, turning it into her husband's neck and kissing it lightly. She opened her mouth to speak but it came out a soft, chocking half-sob.

Santana instantly screwed her own eyes shut, willing the untimely flow of tears to back off. Santana just held still for what seemed like an hour but her eyes opened and shifted to the reason she was there. "What symptoms was he displaying at home?" she asked, walking over to the fragile blonde boy lying peacefully unaware of the panic surrounding him.

Sara reluctantly loosened her grip and backed up, keeping hold of Jason's hand as they stepped closer to their sleeping child. Jason took the seat where Sara had been and began mimicking the motions in his hair with his free hand. The blonde smiled weakly, feeling stronger now that she wasn't alone anymore.

Sara moved close as Jason reclined in the chair, so she could on his lap. "I don't know..." She whined at the recollection. "The whole thing started out with what everyone thought was just a stomach bug he might have picked up from another kid at that damn park I was so insistent about living near." Jason heard the tinge of guilt in her voice and pulled her to lean against his shoulder, kissing her temple in a show of support. "But you know how he is with talking. All he would say is 'Mama, it hurts'. I kept him home from nursery after he started crying but he seemed content lying on the couch and watching TV. I made him some lunch but when I went to check on him after a bit he was burning up and covered in sweat, then he started to throw up and he was crying, asking for you…" she pointed to Santana. "He was asking for the 'magical medicine' you have that tends to make him feel better."

Santana nodded her head, reaching out to place her index and forefinger on his wrist, feeling for the regularity of his pulse. She wanted nothing more than to scoop him up in her arms and hold him, tell him she was there and everything was going to be okay but he looked so peaceful. "So what happened next, Sara? Did you bring him straight here?"

Sara sat up and cradled her head in her hands, trying desperately to keep herself from crying now. Jason ran a soothing hand down his wife's back, trying to calm her. He hated seeing his wife this stressed, but it seemed like a permanent state of emotion for the time being.

"The doctor's office was closed." Sara continued, removing her hands to look over their son. "So I gave him some medicine to break the fever but then he started getting sick. I just felt so bad for him. He just kept crying and wanting me to hold him. I was going to call Jason for some suggestions but I decided the emergency room would be better. That way nothing was missed, you know?"

"Of course. You've done the right thing bringing him here." Santana said, gently removing her fingers from Archie's wrist, studying his serene expression. She had to pinpoint whether this was a fever or something linked with his treatment for Leukaemia.

"Yeah." Jason nodded, proud of his wife for remaining level headed throughout the whole thing. Thinking back on the nervous wreck the woman had been right after his diagnosis, it truly was an amazing transformation. He looked to Santana. "And so will he need surgery? Or chemotherapy? Bone marrow?"

Santana paused. "He's going to need stronger treatment. That's something we unfortunately can't avoid…" Jason nodded his head in silent understanding and Sara kept her eyes focused on her husband's hand entwined in hers. "I need to go over some questions with you. Is that okay?"

"Of course." Jason said, keeping his voice even to calm his wife. Sara swallowed down the last bit of her threatening tears and nodded her head as well.

"Ah. Just in time I see." A nurse stated softly with a smile as she entered the room to hang another bag of fluids, meeting both Santana and Jason's eyes briefly. She turned to Santana, pulling her aside to whisper in her ear. "Doctor Lowndes asked me to inform you that he is first up for surgery this morning, so we will be wheeling him down stairs in about an hour."

Santana nodded affirmatively, grateful his surgery was to be soon. "I just need to finish some notes and then you can start prepping. I'll call you in."

The nurse exited quietly, leaving Santana to deal with the emotionally drained parents. She turned back to Jason, addressing him instead of Sara. "I just need you to answer the following questions and then the nurse will begin to prep him for surgery. The surgery we discussed last week is going to be pushed forward. We can't afford to waste any time."

Sara looked up, meeting Santana's warm, considerate eyes with tear, stained ones. "Okay-"

"Honey, I'll answer them." Jason whispered, gently stroking Sara's hair, pulling her back against his chest. The blonde didn't resist, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. Santana stood opposite; beside Archie as she double checked that the right amount of fluids had been registered. She studied her clipboard, making a quick note.

"This is not going to be anything too pressing, but the answers are very important," She informed Jason. "It would be helpful if the answers could be as accurate as possible." He nodded, running his hand over the dark stubble growing on his defined jaw. "Did he have a fever before you brought him in?"

"Yes." He stated affirmatively. Santana moved on, scanning the next question.

"Any signs of shortness of breath? Fatigue?"

"Yes, especially when required to walk upstairs."

"Okay, did he struggle before when he was required to walk upstairs?"

"No, he used to love trying to climb up them. Now he does everything possible to avoid doing so."

Now it was Santana's turn to nod as she made quick, shorthanded notes on her clipboard. It was three o'clock in the morning and her eyes were strained from a mixture of tiredness and emotional fatigue but nothing could make her go home when it concerned young children like Archie battling something so fierce and unforgiving. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

"Any signal's that he is suffering from any joint or bone pains?"

"Yes. Often."

"I can also tell he's lost colour in his skin and is bruising easily." She observed, running a gentle hand over his forehead. He was so innocent. A large purple bruise was situated on the right side of his forehead and a tiny, darker bruise lingered on his arm. Of course, bruises were normal for young children, but these spoke a very different story to anything that could be considered ordinary. "Any painless lumps on the neck, underarm, groin or stomach?"

"Yes." Jason said, his eyes sombre as he looked over at Archie's lifeless body. They'd discovered the lumps just a week beforehand and Santana had diagnosed that the cancer had progressed. It was a bitter pill to swallow for everyone in the room.

Santana inhaled deeply, kneeling down slightly to Archie's level. She observed the gentle flush across his sculptured cheeks and long, thick eyelashes that curled upwards, his pink lips slightly parted as he breathed in soft, shaky breaths. "I think I have everything I need to know. His surgery will be the first one this morning at eight am."

"That soon?" Sara asked sitting up and grabbing her phone to start calling her family. Making a mental list of who needed to be called first.

"Well the surgery team is already in for an emergency that came in last night so they are looking to get him down a little bit sooner than scheduled." She informed them. Jason nodded in response as his thoughts drifted while Sara stood up and moved out of the room to talk on the phone. "Did you have any questions? I know you were last to get here."

Jason sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees but his eyes were glued to Archie. "This is a pretty routine surgery, right?" He knew the answer, having spent endless nights researching, but he still felt the need to be reassured. He was also hoping it would help give him a boost in energy to help protect his wife from further upset.

Santana cleared her throat as the thought of it all seemed to be another pound of weight pushing down on her.

"Pretty much. There are always risks involved with any type of surgery but I assure you he is in good hands. This _is_ high risk, but it's the best thing we can do." She replied, finishing with the bag of fluids and turning her full attention to the concerned man. "He'll be okay." Jason looked up to her, unsure whether he had full faith in her words. "I mean, he's still got a lot more strength than usual for cases like this. I have a lot of faith that he will carry on fighting with all the love and care he's receiving." She motioned to Jason with one hand and to the door Sara had exited through with the other. "He's a very happy, bright little boy."

Jason's eyes softened, the concern melting fractionally. Santana pulled Archie's blanket around him. "We don't want him to get a chill. We need to maintain a steady temperature." She informed Jason, who from the other side of the bed tucked the blanket around Archie's tiny, curled up body.

"Daddy?"

In one fluid movement Jason slid from the chair to the side of Archie's bed and fresh tears welled up in Santana's eyes which she tried to hide as Jason stared down at his foster-son. "Hey, son. How are you feeling?"

He gave a soft smile as Archie rolled on to his back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, never really giving him an answer. "Where's Mama?"

"She's right outside." He said softly before turning to the door. His wife was busy pacing back and forwards on the phone, so Santana stepped forward instead needing to quickly adjust the tape holding in the I.V needle.

"Are you feeling better, Archie?" She asked softly and he nodded his head, instantly recognising the brunette doctor gently adjusting the tape over his wrist.

"Can I go home now?"

Jason watched the interactions, thinking back to all those nights Santana had generously given up her much deserved sleep in order to care for Archie and support their family unit. Seeing Archie's immediate sense of trust in her made Jason instantly grateful they'd been blessed with such a caring, devoted paediatrician. "No, Sweety. The medicine is making you feel better right now but if you go home you'll feel sick again. Do you remember what your mummy told you last night? About what the doctor is going to do?"

He didn't say anything this time, instead he just looked down as he played with the blanket between his fingers. Santana could see he was scared. "Are you going to get a cool scar to show off to Summer?" She asked with a wide smile as he looked up to her. "I have one. In fact, I got mine a very similar way when I was just a little older than you." He looked up to her, waiting for her to continue. She'd actually gotten it through having her appendix removed which wasn't at all similar, but Archie didn't need to know that. They were actually going to be removing his spleen, a very dangerous thing to do in someone so young. The reason behind their decision was because blood cells had accumulated in his spleen, causing it to swell and displace other organs in the abdomen. She stood up and lifted the bottom of her shirt slightly, exposing part of her stomach. She took a second to search for the faded scar then pointed to it. "See. Right there."

He looked at it and then to the standing doctor, almost studying her. "Was it scary?"

She smiled softer and sat back down. "It was a little. I didn't know who all the people were and what they were doing, but you know what? I was just lying in bed with the doctor and nurses around me one second, and then the next I was back in my room with my own mummy and daddy the next. Just like that." She said snapping her fingers. "It was over and I didn't remember a thing."

"You don't remember?"

She shook her head and smiled, trying to help him with his reservations and fears while hiding her own. "There's nothing to remember. You see this?" She asked pointing to the IV that was in his arm, wrapped nicely in clean white bandage and he nodded. "They give you a medicine through it that makes you go to sleep. And when you wake up, it's all over."

He looked to Jason with bright eyes and he nodded his head. "Really." His tone was assuring and Archie immediately smiled. It was weak and Santana could tell it required effort, but it was the first time she'd seen that smile in so long that it didn't matter. It seemed as though Jason felt the same as he reached out and wrapped Archie's petite hand in his strong, manly hand.

"Then we can go home?"

Both of them laughed and Jason answered. "We might have to stay one more night or so but yes. Then after that we can go home and you can show off to Summer that you have a cool scar."

"Think you can handle that?" Santana asked ruffling his hair and gaining a smile from the boy as he nodded his head. "Good. But no more after that." She smiled, her eyes meeting Jason's in a charged stare. His eyes were shining happily as he revelled in the few moments of happiness, knowing that the bad wasn't over yet, but that whilst Archie was smiling, everything was okay.

Santana's smile didn't match the emotion in her eyes, confirming that Jason's fears were rational and that yes, there still would be more surgeries and treatments to come, but in the moment, they just had to embrace the positives.

Jason looked down at Archie, holding his perfect hand in his own. "No more." He whispered.

**/#/#/#/#/**

Quinn scowled into the mirror, frustrated with herself as she brushed her hair – it just wouldn't behave. She was also partly frustrated for another reason. The young interviewer whose position Quinn was on trial for had fallen ill on her last day and Quinn was now subjected to the ordeal of interviewing a big name in the industry of music all by herself. She should have been working from home that morning, editing an interview her and Kristen – the young interviewer who had been teaching her that week- had done yesterday so that it was able to be published. Yet, here she was trying to brush her hair into submission.

"I must not sleep with my hair wet. I must not sleep with my hair wet. I must not –" she began reciting this mantra several times as she began to once more attempt to bring her hair under control with the brush.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and gazed at the pale, blonde-haired woman with big, hazel eyes that were framed with thick, dark eyelashes and gave up. She quickly decided that her only option was to restrain her wayward hair in a neat, preppy ponytail and hope that she looked semi-presentable. She'd learnt a lot during her week-long trail with Fashion House and one of those things was that image and presentation was just as important as anything else in that company, and second to that, an independent mind was valued although not always embraced.

Finishing up her half-hearted prepping, she gathered a small collection of magazines and placed them in her handbag. She then collected the notes she'd taken the previous day whilst sitting in on Kristen's interview with a famous presenter who presented MTV and was in line to present the Brit awards, and she placed them in her bag too, hoping she'd get some time to finish editing them.

Before she knew it, she was hopping into a cab as she set of on her usual route towards the building that housed Fashion House's many employees. It was quarter to nine when she finally arrived and she hastily made her way up Owen Martin's quarters of the large company. The buildings itself was thirty-floors high, all curved glass and steel, an architect's fantasy with Fashion House written discreetly in frosted glass on every set of double doors.

Quinn looked at her watch as she approached the twenty-second floor, relieved to find she wasn't late as she walked into the enormous- and frankly quite intimidating- glass, steel and white sandstone lobby. There were flashes of inviting reds and welcoming burgundies placed sparingly around the lobby in the form of flowers, or pillows on the large, white, armchairs.

Behind the solid, sandstone desk, a very attractive, very well groomed assistant in her early twenties smiled pleasantly at Quinn before returning her attention back to the Apple Mac in front of her. Quinn began to head in the direction of a small collection of studios before changing her mind, remembering that Owen Martin, her boss for the week, had requested to see her that morning before her last day on trial. She headed towards the ridiculously large desk that stretched round in a semi-circle, following the natural curve of the building and stopped just in front of the assistant. The whole lobby was pretty bare, since it was only Quinn and the other woman there, the other three assistant's not in yet, and the rest of the building still quiet, waiting for the other employees to arrive.

The assistant peered over her Mac, waiting for Quinn to tell her what she was waiting for. Quinn cleared her throat, before stepping closer. "I need to see Owen Martins. Is he in yet?"

"Excuse me one moment, Miss Fabray." The assistant said, arching one eyebrow as she searched through the list of employee's who had already signed in. Quinn leaned slightly over the desk, seeing her name written on a pink post-it note. The assistant cocked her head to one side, following her glance. "Ah, here." She said, unsticking the note and holding it out to Quinn. The note was written in the charming boss's boyish script. "It's for you."

Quinn took the note, thanking the assistant as she did so.

_Could you please get Quinn Fabray of the editing department to come to my office as soon as possible please? I will not be in my usual office. See me in conference room 2b. _

It was short, factual and to the point and Quinn instantly turned back towards the elevator to be whisked onto the twenty-third floor. The doors slid open to reveal yet another large lobby, all steel, glass and sandstone once again. She was confronted by another blonde assistant, this time dressed impeccably in a red blouse and black pencil skirt who rose to greet Quinn. She'd obviously received one of Owen's post-it-notes as well.

"Hello, have you got another post-it-note for me?" Quinn asked, weaving her way through sparsely placed armchairs towards the large desk. The assistant immediately grinned, scrunching up the note and chucking it into the trash.

"Yeah. We all have." She sighed, pointing to the other two assistants who were buried in their Macs. "I'm guessing you already know?"

"Yeah." Quinn smiled, drumming her fingers on the desk. "Can I go straight in?"

"Hold on, I'll just check. Take a seat." She pointed towards a seated area of white armchairs with an array of cushions just like the lobby on the floor below.

"Thank-you." She nodded, smoothing down her hair and adjusting her bag on her arm before retreating to the large armchair by the window. As she sat down, she looked out over the city through the massive white window. It made her feel small and insignificant and there was something comforting in that. She was a massive believer that there were times in life when it was important to feel that way. To look at all of those lights, all of those people. There were literally millions of them within a few blocks radius and yet she would never meet most of them. And they would never meet her. They would never judge her. That view seemed to be a way to remind herself that she was just a tiny part in the world that keeps going, whether she wanted it to or not.

She could imagine trying to explain something like that to someone like Rachel. The response would probably be 'And why would you _want_ to feel like that?'

Rachel wasn't the sort of person who could think of any reason to want to feel so miniscule in the world, but to Quinn it was important.

There were days when she felt like she had so much pressure on her shoulders that if she didn't do things right or well enough, the world was going to stop and point at her, telling her how much she screwed up. But then she'd see something like the city at night and realize that there is just so much more going on in the world that if she let one person down, there were countless more that she could be making proud or who won't ever judge her. The world wasn't going to end if she messed up because there would always be chances to try again.

"Mr. Martin will see you now, Miss Fabray. Please go through."

Just then a large, frosted door opened and Owen Martin appeared. He turned to smile at Quinn, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good morning, ladies." He said, leaning out the door. The assistant's all smiled at him saying their good mornings as Quinn got up and walked towards him, taking his extended hand into her own.

"Come in," he smiled, shaking her hand and then leading her into the conference room. He walked behind his desk, taking a seat in a large, black leather chair. "Please, take a seat." He offered, waving for Quinn to sit down on an L-shaped red leather sofa.

The room was far too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there was a large, modern, dark wood desk that six people could easily use as a table comfortably. It matched the coffee table by the sofa. Everything else in the room was white, apart from the soft grey carpet. On the furthest wall was a large collection of black and white photos, which displayed together were breath-taking. Quinn wished she could take photos as powerful as those beauty shots all unique in some sense.

"A Paris photographer. Javier." Said Owen when he caught Quinn's gaze.

"They're amazing. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary." Quinn murmured, distracted by both the photos and Owen's watchful gaze. Owen cocked his head to one side and regarded her intently.

"I couldn't agree more, Miss Fabray." He replied his voice soft, and for some inexplicable reason Quinn found herself blushing.

She sank into the leather sofa when he motioned towards it, crossing her legs carefully.

"Let's make this quick." He said, reclining in his chair. His face was calm and patient and he seemed to be intensely watching every move Quinn made. Quinn nodded, smiling lightly as she folded her hands over her lap. "With Kristen's absence today, a lot will be required of you." Quinn bit her lip, levelling her eyes with his piercing blue ones. He didn't seem too worry about leaving her to carry out Kristen's work. "You've shown over this last week that you are more than capable of keeping up with Kristen's work. It's a shame this week has come to an end so quickly."

He leaned forward resting his strong hands on the desk, his expression suddenly severely serious. Quinn's breath caught in her throat and she struggled to swallow, hotting up under his stare. "Business is all about people, Miss Fabray, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." He paused and readjusted his eyes to Quinn's as if to make sure she was listening. She licked her lips, feeling her mouth going dry. He continued. "My belief is that to achieve success in any scheme you must know it inside out, know every detail, and I work very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good, solid idea and the people it involves. The bottom line is, it's always down to good people…I believe you're one of them."

Quinn allowed a light smile to grace her lips, grateful for the compliment, but anxious about what he was about to say next. He looked on gravely, no break in his serious tone. "If after today's interview I am still as impressed with you as I am now, then the position is yours. If you wish to accept of course?"

"I would love too." Quinn replied, nervously biting down on her bottom lip.

"This all depends on how you perform today." Quinn nodded. "Kristen has left all the questions that need answering on your desk. You need to research the client and then assure you obtain the answers we're searching for. Don't forget, this isn't just any magazine. This is Fashion House. I'm looking for something more…_personal_…something with emotion. Stay on top of your game and you won't have a problem." He winked, suddenly letting his guard down a little and allowing his smile to return.

Quinn smiled widely, nodding. "I will do my very best." She promised, about to excuse herself. Owen held up his hand, silently telling her to stay put. She sat back down, folding her hands back on her lap.

"Have you had a chance to edit the interview Kristen did yesterday?"

"No. I was meant to be doing that this morning." Quinn said, dropping her brow in worry. "I can have it on your desk by tonight?" she offered, running her fingers through her hair.

"That would be perfect." Owen approved with one sharp nod of his head. He paused, before rising to his feet, straightening his crisp white shirt and black tie. Quinn followed suit. "Good luck today." He smiled with a trace of humour in his voice. Quinn looked at him, and he held her gaze steadily, impassive.

"Thank-you." _I'll need it._ She smiled, reaching out to shake his hand, but then she remembered something important and sort-of vital if she was going to be able to research and be prepared for her upcoming interview. "Would it be possible for you to tell me who it is exactly that I'll be interviewing today?"

He smirked, dropping her hand. "I had a feeling you might ask." He smiled. She narrowed her eyes slightly, feeling as though he was teasing her. His smirk only deepened before he regained his professionalism. "It's a Broadway performer…Rachel Berry to be exact. Research her."


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so this is quite a long chapter to make up for the fact that it's taken me so long to update –Plus, I have to apologise in advance for the fact that the next chapter might be an even longer wait! I'm attending a couple of Paralympic events this week and I also have some Psychology work to do so, in advance, I'm very sorry! **

**However this chapter hasn't exactly been easy to piece together, but I hope you'll enjoy it…Please let me know how you believe Rachel and Quinn's encounter should go and do you believe Santana should start seeing someone? Let me know, because it can all change! This chapter doesn't seem to add up to much, but trust me, in the long run it's just as important as every other chapter. **

**I do need to start balancing this fic out a little more though which I hope to do now that it's moving on and that includes spending a little more time exploring Santana's personality and Quinn and Rachel's as individuals as well as a couple – Maybe? That depends on how the response to the next few chapters go. **

**Thank you once again for all your reviews ect – they mean a lot! **

**/#/#/#/#**

Quinn leaned against a large side table uniformly placed against a massive white wall in the deserted studio where Rachel's photo-shoot would be taking place. First, Quinn would interview her and then she'd be escorted to the company's most profound photographer who just happened to be Javier Lesueur, the Paris photographer whose work she'd been admiring just fifteen minutes ago in Owen's conference room. Her lips were pursed in annoyance, her foot tapping, and her hazel eyes rolled up to the ceiling. All while she reminded herself that she had set a goal to learn to be more patient. She needed to learn not to bite people's heads off when they were acting stupid. She needed to not ask them point blank if they were morons. She needed to not stare at them in complete disbelief of their stupidity until they got the picture and walked away in shame and fear. She needed to change that. That behaviour wasn't making her happy or proud. And that was why she continued to stand where she had been for the last ten minutes figuring out a way to change all that before Rachel arrived.

Quinn's eyes flickered over to the red sofa at the opposite end of the studio that faced out towards big, south facing windows that flooded the studio with light. In just another twenty minutes Rachel would be sat there and she'd be sat in the armchair opposite, trying her best to amend the years of torture the diva had endured at her mercy.

In her head, she had to rehearse what she was going to say, how she was ever going to look Rachel in the eye and prove that her transformation from HBIC hadn't happened over night, but wasn't just a fragile ghost of something that wasn't really real. _It was real. _And she needed Rachel to know that. She let out a long breath she didn't realise she was holding and lowered her eyes to the floor.

"Excuse me miss, would you like me to escort our guest to you when she arrives?" A voice called out, having to shout to get Quinn's attention across the vast, white space. It took Quinn a moment to realize that they were talking to her. She pulled her eyes from the floor to the photographer's assistant who was adjusting the lighting on the far side of the room.

"Excuse me?"

The brunette dropped her hands from the adjusting the light from Javier's set and pointed to the un-occupied sofa. "Rachel Berry is due to arrive soon. Would you like me to escort her up here when she arrives?"

"Is she due to arrive now? Because if so then we could be waiting a little while.._._she won't be here for another fifthteen to twenty-five minuets if that's the case." Quinn stated looking over the schedule on her phone, double checking just in case.

"Why?" The assistant asked, her brow dropped. She completely turned away from the photographer's set to face Quinn.

"It's just a Rachel thing." She looked up from her phone to look at the confused yet intrigued girl. "I've known her for a long time. You pick up on things like that."

Quinn dropped her phone into her purse and left it on the sideboard, walking with steady, confident steps towards the red sofas. The assistant followed behind her, trying her best to match the pace Quinn had set. "So you know her well then?"

Quinn smirked and smiled to herself, abruptly pausing at the sofa and turning to lean against it causing the brunette to stumble back a little. "In many respects… Yes. I do. But there's loads I have yet to learn." She hoped she'd have a chance to learn the many things that would have changed or altered since they last saw eachother, but she was bitterly aware that that opportunity may never arise. It was all down to how everything went to today and the pressure Quinn was piling on herself was beginning to become unbearable.

"Have you worked with her before?" The assistant continued her questioning, unfazed by the vacant look in Quinn's face. The blonde's nerves were starting to rise again. "No. I haven't been here long as you know and before this I was simply a graduate fresh from Yale." She furrowed her brow, her eyes latching on to a camcorder that belonged to Kristen. "Have I got to record the interview?"

"Uh…I think so." The assistant fumbled with her answer, not exactly installing confidence in the blonde. Quinn glanced at her, nodding briefly before she turned her back to her, reaching out for the camcorder.

"Are they doing her make-up first?" Quinn inquired stripping off her black cardigan and throwing it across a vacant chair before busying herself with adjusting the lense of a camera in search of perfection. Her head may have been elsewhere, but she still needed things to be perfect.

"Yes they will be. That way she'll only need touch-ups before she goes over to Javier." The brunette informed without making eye contact. Quinn paused, twisting her Tiffany ring around her finger, twirling it quicker and quicker as she looked up at a massive slate clock situated above the double frosted doors. She let her other hand drop from the camera, leaving the lens pointed towards the sofa Rachel would be sat on.

"Okay… is the theme quite extravagant or more intimate?" She asked wanting to gauge whether it was going to be a massive production or a more personal, intimate photo-shoot. If it was going to be extravagant then the gist of the interview would have to be much more flashy, less personal, and more about her career. But if it was going to be intimate, then Quinn could dig much deeper. Even if she_ was_ afraid of some of the answers she may uncover.

The brunette shrugged, guiding her finger across a piece of paper. "From the looks of this it seems as though both Javier and Owen have agreed on something quite natural. I can't imagine that with the make-up they'll be doing today it will be anything too extravagant. It's meant to be a contrast in comparison to her Broadway career."

Quinn nodded sharply. "Good." That fitted in with the tone she wanted to aim for nicely. She reached for a red folder which was sat on the glass coffee table and pulled out the questions Kristen had left on her desk, beginning to sift through them.

Quinn studied some of the questions harder than others, figuring out the best way to approach subjects that could be deemed as personal or sensitive. She wanted this to be a fair character assessment of someone who was adored by many and hated by few. She wanted_ real_ emotion and thought-provoking statements that highlighted the diva's beliefs, but she'd have to work extra hard if she wanted to achieve that working of the list of rather impersonal and over-asked questions she'd been given. "If you haven't worked with her, you must have met her before?" The assistant continued, gaining the infamous arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes from Quinn. "I'm only asking because you seem to have an answer for everything when it comes to her...though she is pretty amazing isn't she? I went to see her show once..Such a powerful performance. I never realised the strengh of her talent before that. Now with the rumours of her joining gay right movements across America and coming to work here in London instead…" she sighed in her admiration. Rachel truly was making her mark in the world of theatre, and now amongst the tabloids for her support of Gay Rights. "She's one of the rare people who deserve the attention for all the_ right_ reasons."

The blonde hid her laugh behind a genuine smile and nodded her head. "She always has been, even if it wasn't appreciated, she'd still manage to get the attention she deserved and adored so much."

**/#/#/#/#**

"Rachel… are you even listening to anything I am saying? This is getting ridiculous." An annoyed Finn asked, nudging the diva sitting next to him in the backseat of the car.

Rachel turned her gaze to meet Finn's and nodded her head with a weak smile. "I am…but I'm not sure I heard correctly. Maybe you should repeat what you said."

Finn narrowed his eyes and rested his arm on the open window, turning his attention to the black cabs streaming along the busy high-street. "I don't know what's going on, Rachel. I don't see why you feel the need to support gay rights so controversially. It would make sense if you were gay, but you're not. You don't even talk to me lately." He tensed as he felt Rachel's eyes suddenly flicker to where he was sat. He didn't need to look at her to know he had hit a nerve.

The diva sighed deeply as she turned away from Finn, unable to look at him any longer. She looked to the car window studying her reflection in the glass. She no longer had a fringe, and her hair was in wavy tousles from a photo shoot she'd done the previous day, her lips were a naked shade of peach and her eyes were still as bold and piercing as they had been in high-school. Her eyes still held their sparkle of promise that Quinn had obtained so much hope from when she secretly admired them. They were the brunette's best features. Those and her incrediably long legs for such a short person. "We aren't together Finn. There's no reason why I should have to ask for your permission to support something I believe in. Are you forgetting about my fathers? Santana? Or even your brother? Who happens to be one of my closest friends… Or, how about a large amount of my co-workers? Why shouldn't I support them just because you're uncomfortable? It's a closed discussion, Finn."

"Rachel, if they want to make a difference then they would be joining something like that for themselves." He answered flatly, returning his attention to his phone. "The only difference is that they don't have the status you have, but why should that stop them if_ they_ want to make a difference?"

That most definitely was not the only difference, but Finn was the last person she needed to inform of her latest feelings. Especially the mixed ones involving Quinn. If she did, Finn would freak and she'd never be allowed to forget about it. It would be plastered all over the news stands. 'Rising Star Crushes On High School Bully' or 'Old Rivalries Rekindle An Old Romance'. She liked that Finn had taken time out to stop by before he flew back to Ohio, but Rachel didn't trust him with anything personal. "They _will_ make a difference, but they aren't getting heard at the moment. I am. That's the difference Finn, and you really need to start letting go of old issues."

Finn opened his mouth to defend himself, but Rachel held up her hand, effectively ending the argument in her favour as the car pulled up to their destination. Heavy, awkward silence fell over them. "I'll see you later?" Finn mumbled under his breath as Rachel turned to look at him one last time. It was meant to be a simple goodbye, but the way he said it made Rachel second guess whether she really _would_ see him later.

She shook her head. She would actually prefer not to go home to more arguing with the man she once loved. "I'll see you tomorrow? Go to your trails. Work your magic." She added with a warm smile to convince him to leave her now and not be waiting for her when she got home. She didn't want to leave things on tentative ground, but they just couldn't seem to get onto the same page about _anything_ these days. Plus, she didn't want him to be around after she'd finished her awkward meeting with her former tormenter. She had a feeling she was going to be emotionally taxed by that point and would most likely want to be alone.

"Alright then, call me when_ you_ want to sort things out. I'm done trying to get you to see sense."

Rachel bit down on her plump bottom lip in frustration, stopping herself from lecturing him. Finn really wasn't any closer to growing up than he had been five years beforehand and she had enough to worry about for one day. She'd been dreaming about what it would be like to see Quinn again and confront her over everything that had occurred during high school, but now that that day was actually here, she felt every other emotion but anger, and the need to confront the blonde had evaporated. Those feelings were now all redirected – at Finn.

At that moment an assistant literally ran through the doors of the building, nearly trippng down the steps in her hurry to meet the diva. "Miss Berry, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Amanda Redding. If you'd like to follow me I'll escort you up to the studio where I'll introduce you to Miss Fabray."

Rachel smiled lightly in amusement as she exited the car. '_Miss_…' She wasn't expecting that, but she couldn't deny that she liked the 'Miss' part. She'd been expecting Quinn to be 'Mrs' by now and there was a gentle tug of relief inside her when she found that wasn't the case. She pushed the feeling aside, too nervous to question it.

"Yes. Quinn Fabray."

Rachel waved her hand in the air. "Yes, I know. I'm just…not accustomed to hearing her referred to as Miss Fabray. I've always just known her as Quinn, but that was under different circumstances." She smiled warmly, following the nervous woman up the steep steps and into the building. "Would it be okay if I asked you something?"

Amanda's eyes widened in surprise when her idol grabbed her arm to silently stop her from entering the removed her hand when she realized that Amanda froze slightly at the contact. "Sure... Is there something you require before Miss Fabray starts her interview?""

Rachel smiled politely; grateful that no matter what happened then at least there'd be one person who would offer her a much-needed smile. "Have you worked with Quinn for long?"

Amanda hesitated, looking around, but she couldn't refuse the diva's request. "To be honest with you, Quinn has only just started working for the magazine recently. She's completing a week-long- trial before they consider offering her a permanent position…It's her last day on trial today. But from what I have observed during the last week, our boss admires her desire to have things running smoothly, so I think she'll be staying for a lot longer. She's very obsevant, and he value's her unique way of bringing something different to the table."

"So, she likes to dig beneath the surface?" Rachel observed for herself. "That's brave. Especially in an industry as close-minded as this one."

"She says that digging beneath the surface is like having a unique kind of creative license. Something you value?"

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked finally allowing them to enter the elevator. She glanced at Amanda quickly, allowing herself to assess the woman's features. She was pretty, very elegant and amazingly well dressed. The sort of girl that was modest about the fact she wore high-fashion pieces to work every day. She looked as nervous as Rachel felt.

"She explained to me just before you arrived that you appreciated the creative license music handed to you. It allows you to be who you want, right?" Rachel nodded. "Well she says that diving into the pschology of a persons mind offers many kinds of answers to questions no one has ever asked. It allows her to be creative in her perception of the world. To never see one person in the same light as another. She says you will always be someone who cherished the light however, and your love for the dramatics allows her to read you like an open book." The diva huffed a laugh at herself. It seemed as so Quinn had her nailed. It was strange to have someone who hardly knew her quote the spoken words of another individual that she should've known inside out, but felt like she hardly knew her. Yet the blonde_ knew_ her.

"She seems to be a lot more observant than I remember."

Rachel allowed the conversation to flatten after that, knowing in her head that she was only separated from the blonde by twenty floors…then nineteen…then eighteen…then seventeen…

Finally the elevator drew to a halt. "Good luck Rachel..." she muttered to herself as the elevator reached the top floor. Amanda shot her an oblivious smile before stepping out of the elevator, unaware of the diva's hesitance to follow.

Rachel's eyes instantly scanned the busy, yet sprawling studio, for the blonde. "I'll let her know you are here. Would you like a drink?" Rachel unbuttoned her jacket and nodded at the pretty assistant as her eyes fixed on Quinn just over the assistant's shoulder.

"I'll get you a water." The assisant informed her, holding out her arm for Rachels jacket and then walking back into the elevator.

Rachel's eyes stayed fixed on Quinn's back. It could have been any blonde from behind, but Rachel just knew it was Quinn. She was standing with her face to the large studio windows, her back to Rachel as she fiddled with a camera. Her posture was relaxed, and didn't have any resemblance to the uptight posture she'd possessed in high-school, but she seemed slightly taller than Rachel remembered. She found herself silently hoping Quinn would turn and run towards her, arms outsteached and her eyes lighting up as they settled on her with a smile. But she knew that wouldn't happen. It had been so long and something inside her was desperate to see Quinn's eyes… Just to see what emotion they were portraying…To see whether it matched the emotion she was feeling.

As if Quinn felt a tug of her own, Quinn turned to see if Amanda was back and her eyes caught Rachel's. The diva watched as Quinn placed the camera down but never broke her gentle stare that she shared with Rachel. Her hazel orbs were tracing over her features slowly as she absorbed the diva's presence, but Rachel didn't feel uneasy or awkward and she didn't squirm under her gaze because it almost felt as though Quinn was smiling at her.

She looked just the same to the diva, but with an undeniable softness and desirable grace that Rachel was sure she hadn't seen before. The sway of her hips wasn't something Rachel had noticed before, but she couldn't draw her eyes away. Her toned legs took confident, long strides that slowed as she approached. As if to ease any of the insurcurities Rachel was feeling, the blonde smiled the most genuine smile she had ever seen on the blonde's red lips. Rachel inhaled deeply, catching the brief scent of Quinn's perfume, a small smile lingered on her lips that mirrored the blondes.

"Rachel," The diva smiled at the respectful tone in Quinn's voice. She hadn't used any of her famous nicknames which was another good sign, and the smile never left her lips. Quinn keep a steady amount of eye-contact with the brunette as if to prove that although there were issue's that needed to be addressed, she wouldn't put any pressure on the diva unless she initated talking about the past first.

"Good morning, Quinn." Rachel addressed her, flashing the famous 'Rachel Berry's Just Won A Tony' smile. Quinn smiled deeper, knowing that smile inside out. It was stained into her memory like a tattoo inked on her skin. The diva shifted her feet, pondering over whether a hug was acceptable at that moment. Quinn made the decision for her, wrapping her in a quick embrace before she gathered all her will power together and took a step back to give Rachel her space. It took all the strength she had to let Rachel free from her embrace as if afraid that if she let go then the diva would disappear. She didn't, for one second, believe that Rachel had forgotten everything she'd put her through, but she didn't see why this moment should have been defined by the past and their old dynamics. That's why she'd choosen the hug. It seemed to seal some sort of unspoken agreement that today was unrelated to previous troubles and she wanted to put that right...To break through the mold that defined them. It was certainly not going to be easy, she was basically trying to erase a woman's memory or at least attempt to explain herself. The only problem was, no words sprung to mind that could sum up the amount of regret, pain and anger she'd haboured, and nothing came to mind which would warrant an acceptable apology.

The two stood in silence separated only by a few steps as they adjusted to each other's presence. They were no longer divided by societies misgivings, but instead standing there as a choice of their own. "It's great to see you again." Quinn finally said, breaking the silence. "I have a lot to apologise for…"

**/#/#/#/#**

"He's so fragile." Sara stated out of the blue causing Santana to hesitate for a moment. They had just left the waiting after Archie had been taken in for surgery. The fresh air seemed to be calling Sara but she hadn't wanted to leave the waiting area in fear Archie would need her. So as Jason settled in to an armchair ready to swap with his wife Santana offered to take a stroll with her out to the small central garden located between the various hospital wings whilst Jason waited in the waiting area.

"But he's doing well." She stated with a light smile, trying to install some form of reassurance in the blonde. She could recite by heart the lists of reasons why Sara had every reason to be an emotional mess and seeing her like that was tearing her apart. Sara was only twenty eight, intelligent, and beautiful, but at that moment in time she was just a shell of the woman Santana had first met.

"Yeah." Sara responded without hesitation, releasing her grasp on her oversized cardigan to take a seat on a low-rise wall. She stared off into the indistinguishable distance. "I'm sorry, Santana. I mean, I'm a mess and you probably have better things to do than walk an old rag like me around." She shrugged folding her arms around her slender frame. Santana smiled fondly at her, reaching out to run her hands up and down her arms to warm her up.

Birds swooped down around them, taking turns to wash in the stone bird bath. Each bird captured the women's attention with their beautiful, tranquil colours. The warm morning air was complimented by an occasional light breeze that cut through the thick atmosphere, and the rising sun calmed their hearts until they beat in rhythm with one another. "I feel old." Sara pouted and Santana arched an eyebrow raising her hands, palms facing up, at a loss. If Sara thought she was old then Santana wasn't far off being classed as 'old' either.

"God, if you feel old then I better get my Zimmer frame picked out now." They both laughed and Santana took a seat next to the exhausted blonde.

"You know what I mean. You have to. I'm not talking about how I look, but if it's any consolation I'm not sure you're capable of actually looking old and wrinkly like Archie always teases you over." She smiled at the memory and Santana scoffed. She was quite sure Archie had her all figured out including what she'd look like when she was eighty. He'd been teasing her about it before she'd helped the nurse wheel him down for surgery. "He seems to think anyone over twenty equals old at the moment. We're trying to change that, so if you see us pointing to elderly people and implying they're young, just nod along."

Santana couldn't help but smile. "Thanks for the warning." The brunette teased, but she was still confused as to what was causing Sara to bring this all up as she took a seat on the wall sideways, facing her. Her hand seemed to instinctively find its way to rest beside brunette's leg, re-establishing the connection that had been lost when Santana stopped trying to warm her up.

Sara laughed, but kept her face down, avoiding Santana's smile. "But anyway, what I said earlier...I was talking about our lives…" Santana guessed that by 'our' she meant her and Jason's. "We're just so... settled." The blonde cringed and shook her shoulders after the word.

Santana's expression hardened slightly. "What's so wrong with being settled? There are many people who would kill to be as settled as you are. To be married with little ones running around. I for one, envy what you have with Jason." She could see the corner of Sara's bruised lips tweak up in a smile as she looked out into the distance again. The dried path her tears had left were stained on her cheeks.

"And I would never change that." She assured the paediatrician. She wouldn't. It wouldn't matter what she had to give up to maintain what her and Jason had built between them. "I love Jason and our children more than anything in this world. They _are_ my world."

Santana leaned forward and tucked a stray piece of blonde hair behind the woman's ear. "I very much envy that." She stated softly, a light smile gracing her lips. The last week had caused her to re-evaluate her style of living and realize just how much her life revolved around Archie, the hospital, Sara and vice versa. She'd realised that her social and sex-life were being neglected whilst she focused her attention else-were. She wanted more than anything to feel that sort of raw connection with someone that she witnessed every second she was around Sara and Jason. What she didn't understand is why Sara was trying to point that out as an issue of sorts.

"I guess... I don't know. I just feel too complacent in what our lives have become these last, I don't know, maybe two years. It was just the same every day. But this battle Archie is suffering through is the most challenging thing that has happened in our lives since our daughter Summer was born. That and when Archie first arrived at our home." She added the last as an afterthought. "That was the best four months we ever had as a family before he got sick."

Now it was clear why Sara had pushed so hard for Jason to go to New York for a conference when Archie had first been diagnosed. Or at least it was to Santana. Sara wanted her husband to enjoy it because he had wanted to go and also because she wanted that life or excitement of experience back in their world, even if it was just for Jason. She could live vicariously through it. Read the happiness and passion on her husband's face when he returned and feel it as her own as she listened to the stories he brought back.

Santana had always thought it was strange that Sara had encouraged him so vigorously to go only a week after Archie's diagnosis, but of course, she'd never voiced any of her opinions then so it had gone unnoticed, but now it all made sense.

Sara crossed her legs and her arms across her body. "Now with Archie being so ill, we won't even have our trip to Cornwall every year. We always go to visit family. But everyone will be here instead, praying and hoping his life will continue to flourish and battle through this. Which is a good thing in its own way. Don't get me wrong." She glanced quickly to Santana who was content listening as she voiced her opinions. There was no judgment in her dark, glistening eyes. She was there to listen and support, even if she was mildly confused still. "I am beyond thankful to have family and friends around who love and support us, but..."

"But... having them here every day takes away the experience of seeing them?" Santana finished for her. It wasn't something she could sympathise with, but it didn't stop her from understanding the essence of what Sara was trying to say. Every year, no matter how bad things got, she would still be able to look forward to escaping reality for a little and seeing their family. Now she didn't even have that as a form of escape. It had been their only form.

The blonde bowed her head but nodded in response. She felt guilty for some reason. Maybe not guilty, but ungrateful. She had an amazing life, one to be proud of. She had left a small town for the big city like she had always dreamed. Found happiness in a career as a nursery teacher. She had found love with a man who was and gave everything she needed including a family of two perfect children. All of it fulfilled every dream she had ever had. Apart from the evil twist of fate that was threatening all that, by threatening to take away their foster son…Her beautiful little boy.

Sara lifted her head slowly as she played the thoughts over and over in her head. "All of my dreams have come true." Her tone was full of realization and surprise and a tiny bit of sadness.

The silence stood for a few seconds longer before Santana sighed lightly and scooted closer so her left leg bumped softly against the blonde's. She sat there for a moment until Sara turned and looked at her, her eyes silently asking for help. "Then I guess you're just going to have to dream up some new ones."

"You make it sound so easy."

Santana smiled and gently rocked into the blonde's side encouraging her to share her smile. "It can be." She whispered. "I have it easy when it comes to dreaming. I spent so much of my past and childhood telling myself that my dreams were never going to happen, but then I had my first kiss in public with a woman," She trailed off to look at Sara's earnest expression. She wasn't judging her, just focusing on every word. "Every day I'd wake up believing it was wrong to be who I was and wrong to look at women the way I do, but then I'd see this girl…Her name was Brittany… and I'd see her smiling at me like my fears and insecurities were all just illusions that I'd created and I'd feel a fulfilment I never expected to experience. You're different though, I respect that. But maybe you should start by wishing for one thing at a time...like Archie's health?"

Sara lifted her head and Santana did the same, knowing the other woman would be looking for an explanation with a frown on her face. "Did you ever feel like you had to hide your sexuality from me and Jason?"

"No I didn't. But regardless of how comfortable I feel around you and Jason, it's just a subject that had never presented itself as relevant. I didn't want to be deemed as unprofessional and I didn't think you knowing would have any impact on my ability to care for your son." She paused as Sara studied her eyes, nodding in understanding. "And by the way, you're not old… yet. Having kids doesn't need to slow you down or be 'the end'." She mocked playfully, earning a laugh and blush from Sara as she looked away trying to hide. It was the most adorable sight Santana could imagine and she was grateful she'd taken the time out to spend a few moments alone with Sara, just to help bring her back to the point of sanity. It was something they both needed.

"You love throwing my dramatics back at me, don't you?" The blonde asked looking back at her with a smile.

"I don't get to tease you much so I take advantage of the opportunities I get, just to lighten the mood. But seriously." She continued as she absorbed Sara's gentle smile, her blue eyes shifting between her wedding ring and Santana. "Marriage and kids don't have to be the last great thing you do. You're an amazing mother and I'm learning a great deal from watching the way you interact with Archie. No procedure is small when it's your child so your dramatics are more than justifiable."

The smile that Sara had been holding slowly fell and she looked away again. Santana's smile fell as well as her eyes zeroed in on the expression Sara was wearing. Her eyes were glazed with worry, her lips tight and her jaw screwed shut and Santana had seen it once to many times before.

"That." The brunette pointed firmly. "I know that look. I could hear it in your voice but now I know it is something serious. What's going on, Sara? Is there something you want to talk about? Maybe I can ease any worries you might have? You're free to talk to me about whatever, whenever…It's all confidential." Sara turned her head and began to lean away, harbouring no intention of telling Santana what was going through her mind. "What's wrong?" Santana asked more firmly as the smaller woman scooted down the wall.

"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it."

That was a lie and both women knew it. It felt like a kick to Santana's chest as well, especially as they had just been doing so well. "Okay." She said, not wanting to push too hard for an answer Sara wasn't willing to share. She decided that changing the subject might be the wisest thing to do, but she couldn't change it completely. There was a question lingering in the air and she couldn't relax until it had been answered. "Should I not have told you about my sexuality?"

"God, of course you should have!" Sara shot back quickly, all hostility draining away. She really wasn't affected by Santana's admission. It was nothing she wasn't used too. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to be open with me."

Santana nodded. "Okay, but there's something else bothering you and if it's anything I've done then I am deeply sorry. I didn't mean too.-"

"Shh…" Sara smiled softly, reaching out to touch Santana's arm. "You've done nothing. In fact, to ease your worries, I have a cousin who's also gay. She's beautiful actually; I think you'd like her."

"Really?" Santana asked, arching her eyebrow. This wasn't what she'd been expecting but that didn't stop her from being interested. _Very _interested. Sara also seemed to perk up as a new idea filled her head. It wasn't something she'd normally do, but the Latina had been nothing but amazing to her and her family and she couldn't think of anyone nicer to introduce Santana too then her cousin.

"Yeah. Would you like me to introduce you? She's meant to be coming to see Archie this weekend anyway."

Santana deliberated, easily pin pointing where this could get messy. She chewed on her bottom lip, running her index finger along the wall. Sara watched her, a hopeful smile playing across her tired features.

The blonde beamed when she saw that the Latina was about to cave and Santana grew more cautious. She was always wary about being set up but since her sex life was in an even worse state then an eighty year old pensioner's with a hip replacement she had nothing to lose. "What's she like?" Santana asked, allowing her professionalism to drop a little and her inner player to rise. Although being a player was the last of her intentions this time around.

"I think you would be very interested in her. She's confident, intelligent, captivating, passionate, driven. She likes a challenge...and she's certainly feisty, as some would put it." Santana arched an eyebrow and waited for the reasoning behind this flattering description. Even though the girl was supposed to be Sara's cousin, there seemed to be more behind this than it first appeared. And she was right. Sara felt guilty that Santana had to spend so much time caring for them. It seemed like it was impossible for Santana to sleep, let alone date, and Sara felt partly responsible. "I'd like for you to meet her, but I understand if you don't want to or are currently in a relationship with someone else."

Santana shrugged her shoulders. She wouldn't have exactly called any interaction she'd had lately a 'relationship' in any sense of the word. There were all sorts of women who were dying to date a young paediatrician who lived in the heart of London and was actually capable of caring for herself and thinking independently, but not one of those women ticked any of Santana's boxes. "Maybe it's something I should think about. What does she look like?"

"A model." Sara answered bluntly, bracing her arm on the back of the wall and holding her fingers to her growing smile. Santana was interested. In a one night stand if nothing else. And Sara's cousin could certainly deal with her feistier side.

Santana pouted her lips in consideration. "Hair?"

"Long, tousled and brunette."

"Eyes?"

"Emerald green. Very beautiful."

"Curves?"

"To die for." The Latina arched an eyebrow at Sara's words. "I can't deny the woman is beautiful. Trust me, Jason tried when he first met her and I was standing right beside him!"

There was a silent moment of consideration from Santana as she studied the blank section of the wall between them. "I'll think about it. I'd certainly _like_ to meet her… But I don't want to cross the line into becoming unprofessional, plus she may not be interested."

Sara frowned. As much as she admired the Latina for allowing her defensive walls to melt when she was dealing with Archie, she couldn't quite figure out where her sense of feistiness had disappeared too. Santana wasn't just their son's paediatrician to her. She was also quickly becoming a friend, and Sara could tell Santana was afraid of something…and deep down Santana knew it too. She was second guessing her appeal to another woman. "Whilst I won't lie to you and say she initiated this, she has heard about you a million times through both me, Jason _and_ Archie actually. He always chatters away to her on the phone about you so she's very aware of your value to us. But she _is_ very attractive and often has a lot of open invitations from both men and woman. So, there may be a bit of competition for you." Sara was playing dirty, knowing Santana's weakness. She was just as competitive as the blonde in her own right.

The Latina scoffed and rolled her eyes. "If I meet her and I am interested, there will be no competition. I promise you that."

Sara smirked, knowing she'd won this inner competition, but she played it cool, not wanting to let the Latina in on her little trick. "We'll see."

Santana tweaked her eyebrows. "Sounds like fun."


End file.
